Animal Farm: Reborn
by Torotyrannus15
Summary: My own version of George Orwell's timeless classic, featuring a more elaborate plot, more fleshed-out characters, and an ending that will top those of all 3 adaptations! Includes several OCs and varying character perspectives. I suggest you read the book before you read this. Story is better than summery.
1. Chapter 1: Old Major's Dream

**This fanfic is based on the phenomenal beast fable by George Orwell, and is one of two I have planned out, but they don't share any continuity to eachother, so don't get confused.**

**First up, an admittance to the readers: I know it looks like I've been pumping out one fanfiction after another, and not continuing them beyond the first chapter or so. I'm honestly very sorry about that. Some of you may not understand this, but I can only involve myself with certain fandoms if I'm in the particular mood for elaborating on that fandom. And right now, I'm onto the Animal Farm fandom, so I am writing this fic.**

**So, I unfortunately must inform that updates for any of my fanfics will be sporadic, few and far between. I apologize to any hard fic-lovers who are dismayed by the long hiatus. But, nobody's perfect.**

**Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business; this Animal Farm fanfic is more of a remake, not to say that it's better than the original, which is a really good book, all of you out there should read it if you haven't. It's my own version of Orwell's classic tale, but, since it will have nothing to do with historical events, it will have a more elaborate plot, more fleshed-out characters with bigger individual roles, and different wording and description of events, as well as events that weren't shown in the original book, and a significant number of the characters will be fan-made by me. I will also be incorporating several elements from both of the film adaptations of the book, but the main story will follow that of the book itself.**

**Despite the above mentioned on/off updating schedule, you can expect quicker updates for this fic, since I've already read the book and am basing most of the chapters around the book's.**

**As I'm sure I don't need to tell you, I own no rights to Animal Farm or its adaptations.**

* * *

It was a cool, early spring night in the wide-open countryside of England, and on a small stretch of land outside Willingdon county known as the Manor Farm, all of the animals who had labored throughout the day lay awake in their stalls.

The owner of the farm, Mr. Jones, who had long ago turned to drink in spite of his own self-inflicted problems, had returned later than usual from the Red Lion, the local farmers' favorite watering hole. Mr. Jones had already locked the henhouses, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. The drunken man then stumbled back towards the farmhouse, the ring of light from his lantern dancing wildly, and, after a last glass of beer from the scullery, shambled up the stairs to his room where Mrs. Jones, the farmer's witch of a wife, lay already alseep and snoring.

Once all the lights in the farmhouse were out, there was a low stirring and fluttering about all the farm buildings. Old Major, the prize middle-white boar of Manor Farm, had called all the other animals for a meeting in the big barn that night. Word had gone around that day that Old Major had had a strange dream the previous night that he desired to share amongst the other animals, and, being as the boar was regarded as the wisest and most respected animal on the farm due to his years, the others were willing to lose an hour of sleep so as to hear what he had to say.

Old Major(though among the humans he was known as Willingdon Beauty) was twelve years old and was dull grayish-white in terms of coloration, and his strong, ivory-white tusks, which had never been cut, curved smoothly upwards from his jaw. Major presented a wise and benevolent, yet strong and honorable appearance, and even the much taller horses and cows looked up to him. Old Major lay in a bed of straw on a sort of raised platform, lit by a small oil lantern that hung from a beam. Before long the other animals began to file into the barn and make themselves comfortable after their different fashions. The first to arrive were the three dogs, Jessie the border collie, Bluebell the greyhound, and Pincher the rottweiler. Jessie was mainly white and black with some brown around her eyes and legs**(keeping the appearance of her live-action film counterpart)**, and Bluebell was sandy brown with white underneath.

After the dogs came the pigs, of which there were about twenty, not counting the few young piglets, who settled themselves down immediately in front of the platform. Among the pigs were Snowball, a handsome-looking boar of creamy-white, and Napoleon, a large, fierce-looking Berkshire boar, who was just as determined as Snowball to get a good spot, though far less polite about it. Lastly there was Trop, a young white boar with large brown blotches along his back, and by his side was Snuffler, an Essex piglet. These two took their seats beside Snowball, partly because young Snuffler was quite frightened by Napoleon.

The ducks and chickens perched themselves sporadically throughout the barn, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, and then the sheep, marshaled by two old but wise rams named Clove and his brother, Hogarth, arrived and settled themselves in the middle of the spacious room behind the pigs. After the sheep came the three cows and single bull, Oxford, who brought themselves down at the right end of the room and began chewing their cud. The ring that donned Oxford's nose, as well as his huge size and curved horns, gave him an intimidating appearance, but really he was a kind beast who only showed anger when it was impossible for him to feel anything else. Oxford settled down beside his beloved, a small, kind-hearted heifer named Annabelle.

The two cart horses, Boxer and Clover, came in together, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hooves with great care, lest there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a pale brown, stout, motherly mare approaching middle age, and she had quite never gotten her figure back after her fourth foal. Her mane was raven black, and she had a darker brown stripe down her back. Boxer was an enormous beast, towering over the other animals, and his strength, which surpassed even Oxford's, was greater than that of any two ordinary horses put together. He was dark brown, and a white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he more than made up for this with his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work, for which he was universally respected. After the horses came Muriel, the white nanny goat, and Benjamin the old Donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom spoke, and when he did, it was usually to make some cynical remark- for instance, he would say that God had given him a tail to keep the flies at bay, but that he would sooner have no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he never laughed, and if asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer. The juggernaut of a horse was truly the closest and only thing Benjamin had to a friend; the two of them would spend their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side, but never speaking.

The two horses had just lain down adjacent to the cows, when a brood of ducklings, who had lost their mother, stumbled into the barn, cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side in search of some place where they would not be trodden on. Clover, seeing the young ones in distress, made a sort of wall around them with her great foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and soon fell asleep, cutely quacking their snores.

At this moment, one of the side doors of the barn creaked open, and in trod an animal that was certainly not of the domestic type. This was a young red deer stag known as Bolt, so named for his impressive speed. His many-pointed antlers branched out over his long neck, and his reddish-brown coat was not well-groomed, though this was to be expected of a wild creature. Bolt resided in the woods at the edge of Manor Farm, and had met and subsequently befriended Boxer, Clover and Oxford one day in fall while he had been pilfering some ripe apples from the orchard, and he had been later acquainted with the other animals. Bolt was, unfortunately, unable to spend much time with his domestic friends, as he could not be seen by Jones or his farmhands since it would surely land his head on Jones's wall. Several of the other animals had their eyes on Bolt as he settled down beside Boxer and Benjamin, for the red deer had very rarely been inside the barn during his visits. A minute later, a silent, ghostly white figure flew into the barn from a high window, and several pigeons hurriedly flew to other parts of the barn as it landed on one of the rafters, its coal-black eyes hardly paying attention to the spooked birds. This was Joseph, the old barn owl who frequented Manor Farm, and it was no mystery why his entrance had startled the pigeons; it was a known fact that owls ate their kind.

But Joseph was not hungry, and at any rate he only hunted in the woods, and mostly just for rodents.

At the last moment, Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who drew Mr. Jones's trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing a lump of sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her golden blonde mane, hoping to draw attention to the pink ribbons that adorned it. Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contently throughout Major's speech, only half-listening to what he was saying.

All the animals were now present except Moses, the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door. Joseph was rather content with this, as he and the raven did not at all get along, nor did they like eachother. When Major saw that the others had all made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he cleared his throat and began:

"Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to say first." Old Major's voice was low and hoarse, but he spoke loud enough for all the creatures in the barn to hear. "I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired throughout my years. I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you.

"Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end, we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty. Our children are born to cold and hunger." When Major said this, a mother ewe looked down at her black lamb that lay nuzzled to her side. What would happen to her dear child in the future? "Look at them while you can. No animal in England knows the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth.

"But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent life to those who dwell upon it? No, comrades! A thousand times no! The soil of England is fertile, its climate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance to an enormously greater number of animals that now inhabit it. This single farm of ours would support a dozen horses, twenty cows, hundreds of sheep- and all of them living in comfort and a dignity that are now almost beyond our imagining. Why then, do we continue in this miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our labor is stolen from us by human beings. There, comrades, is the answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single word- Man. Man is the only real enemy that we have. Remove man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished forever.

"Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plow, he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that will prevent us from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself. Our labor tills the soil, our dung fertilizes it, and yet there is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how many gallons of milk have you given during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should have been breeding up healthy and sturdy calves that you, Oxford, should have sired? Every drop of it has gone down the throats of our enemies. And you, hens, how many eggs have you laid in this past year, and how many of those eggs have ever hatched into chicks? The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for Jones and his men. And you, Clover, where are those four foals you bore, who should have been the support and pleasure of your old age? Each was sold at year old- you will never see one of them again. In return for your four confinements and all your labor in the fields, what have you ever had except your bare rations and a stall?

"And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky ones. I am twelve years old and have fathered over four hundred children. Such is the natural life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in the end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will scream your lives out at the block within a year. To that horror we all must come- cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone." The animals, especially the pigs, whined in horror at the notion meeting their end at the blade of the knacker. "Even the horses and the dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those great muscles of yours lose their power, Jones will sell you to the knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds. As for the dogs, when you three grow old and toothless, Jones will tie bricks round your necks and drown you in nearest pond. Not even you, Bolt, as a wild animal, are safe, for if Jones or any one of his men were to walk in suddenly and see you in the barn, they would shoot you dead and mount you on the farmhouse wall without a second thought.

"Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that all the evils of this life of ours spring from the tyranny of human beings? Only get rid of Man, and the produce of our labor would be our own. Almost overnight we could become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of the human race! That is my message to you, comrades:_ REBELLION!_ I do not know when that Rebellion will come, it might be in week, or in a hundred years, but I know, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry on the struggle until it is victorious.

"And remember, comrades, your resolution must never falter. No argument must lead you astray. Never listen when they tell you that Man and the animals have a common interest, that the prosperity of the one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the interest of no creature except himself. And among us animals let there be perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle. All men are enemies. All animals are comrades."

At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major had been speaking, four large rats had crept out of their holes and were sitting on their hindquarters, listening intently to him. Joseph and the dogs had suddenly caught sight of them, and it was by only by a swift dash to their holes that the rats saved their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence.

"Comrades," he said, "here is a point that must be settled. The wild creatures, such as rats and rabbits- are they our friends or our enemies? I do not need to tell you that not one but two are among us right now." Major said, referring to Bolt and Joseph. "Let us put it to a vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats comrades?"

The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming majority that rats were comrades. There were only five dissentients, the three dogs, the cat, and Joseph, and the latter two were afterwards discovered to have voted on both sides. Major continued:

"I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty of emnity towards Man and all his ways. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. And remember also that in fighting against Man, we must not come to resemble him. Even when you have conquered him, do not adopt his vices. No animal must ever live in a house, or sleep in a bed, or wear clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage in trade. All the habits of Man are evil. And, above all, no animal must tyrannize over his own kind. Weak or strong, clever or simple, we are all brothers. No animal must ever kill any other animal. All animals are **EQUAL**!" A brief uproar of excitement followed this announcement, and when it died down, Old Major began again.

"And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I cannot describe such a dream to you. It was a dream of the earth as it will be when Man has vanished. But it reminded me of something that I had long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was but a nursing piglet, my mother and the other sows used to sing an old song of which they only knew the tune and the first verse. I had known that tune in my infancy, but it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came back to me in my dream, sung by golden angelic voices. And what is more, the words of the song also came back- words, I am certain, which were sung by the animals of long ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that song now, comrades, and I hope you to join in. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called _Beasts of England_."

Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune, right along the lines of_ Clementine_. The words ran:

_Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,  
__Beasts of every land and clime,  
__Hearken to my joyful tidings  
__Of the golden future time._

_Soon or late the day is coming,  
__Tyrant Man shall be o'erthrown,  
__And the fruitful fields of England  
__Shall be trod by beasts alone._

As Old Major sang in his gruff voice, the other animals began to join him, clucking, barking, and mooing the words of the song with rising enthusiasm.

_Rings shall vanish from our noses,_  
_And the harness from our back,_  
_Bit and spur shall rust forever,_  
_Cruel whips no more shall crack._

_Riches more than mind can picture,_  
_Wheat and barley, oats and hay,_  
_Clover, beans and mangel-wurzels_  
_Shall be ours upon that day._

_Bright will shine the fields of England,_  
_Purer shall its waters be,_  
_Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes_  
_On the day that sets us free._

_For that day we all must labor,_  
_Though we die before it break;_  
_Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,_  
_All must toil for freedom's sake._

_Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,_  
_Beasts of every land and clime,_  
_Hearken forth and spread my tidings_  
_Of the golden future time._

_Hearken forth and spread my tidings_  
_Of the golden future time._

The singing of this song threw the animals into wildest excitement, and then the whole farm burst into_ Beasts of England_ in tremendous unison. The cows and Oxford lowed it, the dogs howled it, the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, Joseph hooted it, even Bolt joined the chorus with his own moaning, honking call. The animals were so delighted and uplifted with the song that they sang it right through five whole times, and Old Major shed tears of happiness from his old eyes. The animals sang _Beasts of England_ heartily onward, and might have continued singing it all night if they had not been interrupted.

Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed, making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of #6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own sleeping place, with Bolt, most terrified of all, rocketing back to the trees on his long legs. The birds jumped onto their perches, the animals settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.

From his platform, Old Major glared in contempt out the barn window._ Jones may rule over us now,_ he thought._ But one day, Man will pay the price of their treatment of the animals. One day the Rebellion will come. One day..._

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**And so ends chapter 1. As you can see, most of Old Major's speech is derived from the book, still, I like this guy's opinion of human beings ****lol.**

**The characters of Bolt, Joseph, Trop, Snuffler, Oxford, Annabelle, Clove, and Hogarth belong to me. Everyone else is owned by George Orwell. **

**Like I said above, updates for any other of my fics will be largly sporadic. And I do not own this timeless tale.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Rebellion

**I present chapter 2 of Animal Farm Reborn!**

**Think for a minute. Animal farm was written in 1945, and I was born in 1999. How could I own something ****that was made before my parents were born?**

* * *

Three nights later, Old Major died peacefully in his sleep. His body was buried at the foot of the orchard.

All the animals had gathered round Major's grave, and all were silent in respect. Even Bolt had risked coming to the farm in daylight to honor the memory of Old Major, and Mollie came forward and placed one of her ribbons on the grave. Boxer nuzzled her with his snout to comfort her. The animals were devastated by the loss of the ancient, wise boar who had led them for so many years, and many shed tears. Oxford held Annabelle close as tears streaked down her muzzle, and Trop, in a kind of big brotherly fashion, comforted little Snuffler as the piglet cried like it was his job.

"Comrades," the animals turned their heads to the one who spoke. It was Snowball. "Though we have suffered a great loss, we must push on. It is what Old Major would want."

"We each have a sacred duty to him." It was Napoleon who now spoke. "We must carry on in his honor, and we must do whatever it takes to make his dream come true."

"But what can we do?" Boxer asked**(Boxer is voiced by Paul Scofeild, who voiced him in the live action ****film).**

"We must first overthrow Jones." Jessie announced. "And then we must toil to spread the Rebellion across the world." The animals all began wondering aloud what was to be done, and how they were going to do so, but they were silenced when Joseph the barn owl spoke.

"I was with him during his final moments." A few of the animals were stunned; Joseph had rarely spoken more than a few sentences before, and never something so deep and personal. "He told me to inspire everyone to do all they could for the Rebellion, for the sake of freedom, and all those who are deprived of it."

***Flashback***

_Old Major was laying on his bed of straw, his breathing sounded labored, and his eyes were cloudy. Joseph then flew in from a whole in the barn roof, landing elegantly on a post beside Major._

_"You wanted to see me, Major?" He said. Old Major coughed gruffly and turned to look at the owl._

_"Yes." He said. "Joseph, you have been my dear friend for many of my years on this farm. There is no possible way in all the world that I can thank you for that." Joseph smiled gratefully at his old friend's words, but he couldn't help but feel that this sounded like a goodbye. "Joseph, I am..." Major hesitated. "I am dying. I wish for you to be at my side during my final moments."_

_"O-of course, Major." Joseph was taken aback._

_"I am very tired, and in a moment, Joseph, I will sink into a lovely sleep, and I will not wake up. I want you to inspire our comrades to do everything in their power for the Rebellion after I am gone. In any way you can, help them start the revolution. Not just for me, but for all animals, great and small."_

_Joseph's black oval eyes were brimming with salty tears._

_"I...I will, Major. I promise you." Old Major smiled his last._

_"It is not just my dream, Joseph, but the unrealized dream of animals everywhere, not just this farm. I am just thankful that I got a glimpse of it before I passed on." Joseph, his eyes erupting in warm, wet tears now, nodded and tried not to screech out in anguish. Old Major coughed hackingly again, and laid down his head in the straw._

_"Goodbye, Joseph, my friend. I know you will not let me down."_

_"Goodbye, Old Major. I...I hope you h-have a p-pleasant sleep." Old Major, the smile still on his face, closed his eyes for the last time, and began his eternal sleep. Gradually, his breath began to slow. Joseph didn't know how long he had stayed there, but he did not flick a feather until he at last heard Old Major exhale his final breathe._

_Old Major was dead._

_Joseph waited a moment before taking flight out the barn window, for the flow of tears to stop. Then, he flapped his silent wings and headed off to bring the sorrowful news._

***End of flashback***

"There can be no question now." Napoleon said. "It is up to us to spark the Rebellion." Over the next few days, much secret activity went on on Manor Farm. The more intelligent animals on the farm had been given a completely new outlook on life by Old Major's speech. They did not know when the Rebellion would truly begin, but they believed that they were right to prepare for it. They would have to educate and organize themselves, and this work fell naturally upon the pigs, who were definitely the most intelligent of the animals. Snowball and Napoleon, along with Trop and Squealer, the best known of the porkers on the farm, began to elaborate Old Major's teachings into a complete system of thought, to which they gave the name Animalism. Squealer, out of all the pigs, was a brilliant talker, and when he was arguing some difficult point he had a way of skipping from side to side and whisking his tail, which was somehow or other very persuasive. Some said that Squealer could turn black to white.

The pigs had to deal with a number of idiotic questions from the less-intelligent animals, as well as the lies put about by Moses, the tame raven. Moses, as Jones's especial pet, was much of a tale-bearer and a spy, but he was clever talker, just so much as Squealer. The Corvid claimed to know of a mysterious place called Sugarcandy Mountain, which was where all animals went after death. It was a paradise, he said, where clover was in season year round, and lump sugar and linseed cake grew on the hedges. The animals hated Moses because he told tales and did no work(though in Joseph's case it was because Moses was an irritating fool), but some of them believed in Sugarcandy Mountain.

As a matter of fact, Trop was out searching for Snuffler, who had wandered off, when he heard the raven's cackling voice.

"Oh, goodness, not again!" Trop looked over to see a group of animals, consisting of Mollie, Muriel, a few sheep, and a flock of ducks and chickens gathered by a fence post where Moses perched, no doubt spewing more nonsense about this animal heaven.

"...up there it be, my friends!" Moses said, looking upwards. "Just beyond the next cloud. Sugarcandy Mountain; where all your worries will vanish, and where there be enough clover and sugar to choke a Glasgow bull!" Several of the animals ooed and ahhed at the notion of this supposed paradise, but Trop grumbled. Then he noticed that a piglet was jovialy listening in on the tale. An Essex piglet.

"Snuffler!"

Snuffler looked behind him to see an angry Trop glaring at him, and quickly tried to run away, but Trop caught him by the scruff of his neck.

"Snuffler, you know I told not to listen to Moses!" Trop said sternly. "He is trying to cloud your mind with nonsense."

"I was only listening!" The piglet whined as he squirmed in the older pig's grasp. "I didn't really believe any of it!" Trop sighed and set the chubby little one down.

"Are you really telling the truth?" He asked, sounding very much like a parent talking to a young child.

"Yes, yes! Of course!" Snuffler said hastily, rapidly nodding his head. "Sincerely, Trop!"

"Alright, I believe you." Trop said flatly. But Snuffler looked at him sullenly.

"Am I in trouble?" The piglet asked meekly.

"Of course not." Trop was quick to reassure. "How about you go jump in our favorite mud puddle, hm? I'll join you in a minute." Snuffler instantly brightened up.

"Thank you, Trop!" He squealed before dashing off to the pigs' sty. Trop chuckled to himself as he watched his young friend scamper off, and then turned back to Moses' circle of listeners. It had been briefly broken up when Trop caught Snuffler, but had reformed in moments. Already Moses was back to spewing tall tales.

"Alright, break it up!" Trop said as he trotted back into the circle. "There's been enough poppycock from Moses' beak."

"Ahh! A non-believer!" Moses squawked. Trop snorted in annoyance.

"Trop's right, Moses." A new voice said. It was Jessie, and she came up beside Trop. "I'm going to have puppies in a few days, and I don't want their minds filled with idiotic nonsense! Now, fly off before I tell Joseph that he's allowed eat you."

"You're sick!" Moses cawed before fluttering away, terrified of becoming his rival's next meal. The animals that had been listening to him began to leave.

"Thank you, Jessie." Trop said to the sheepdog. "I'm just glad that lousy bird didn't get into Snuffler's head." Jessie chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just cute how much you care about Snuffler."

"What? It's certainly not cute! I'm just looking after the young ones." But Jessie still laughed. Trop huffed.

"So, Jessie, you're pregnant?"

"Yes, me and Blubell." Jessie replied.

"Excited about your first litter?"

"Oh, yes!" The dog and pig smiled.

"Well, it's getting late." Trop said. "We'd best head back to the barn."

"Weren't you going to join Snuffler in the mud?" Jessie said with a laugh. Trop sighed, but smiled.

"I believe so, if I'm not mistaken. Good day, Jessie." With that Trop turned and headed towards the pig sty, much to the eager joy of Snuffler, who was already rolling in the mud. Jessie watched him go, and at that moment Boxer came up to her.

"Hello, Boxer." Jessie kindly greeted him. The massive cart horse seemed troubled.

"Jessie, the pigs are talking about rebelling against Mr. Jones." He said. "But I don't understand; Old Major said that the Rebellion would happen anyway. So what difference does it make if we prepare for it?"

"I'm not completely sure myself, Boxer." Jessie replied. "But maybe Snowball can help explain it better." This answer seemed to work for Boxer. Suddenly, a shrill, angry voice came from the farmhouse.

"JONES! The sink's backed up again!" It was Mrs. Jones.

"Now listen here, woman! I've just about had enough out of you!" Mr. Jones yelled back as he came around the farmhouse.

"Oh! Run Jessie!" Boxer warned, and the dog and horse took off. Mr. and Mrs. Jones argued frequently, and it never ended well, especially if any animals were nearby. Nearly all of them had felt the sting of Jones's whip when he was in a particularly bad mood. Jessie and Boxer made a break for the barn, with Trop following close behind, clutching little Snuffler in his mouth.

* * *

The next day, it was Midsummer's Eve. Jones was lounging in his Windsor chair in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, when he found that he had run short on whisky. Ignoring his wife's complaints that the animals needed feeding, Jones left the house to get a drink in town. His farmhands were outside stacking hay, and had yet to milk the cows.

"C'mon lads. I need a pint." Mr. Jones said as he made his way to his car.

"But Mr. Jones," One said. "We haven't fed the animals yet, or milked the cows."

"Ah, you do that later. I'm out of whiskey." Mr. Jones scoffed. The men then piled into the car and started the engine. The animals were all gathered by the barn gate and saw the men leaving.

"Where are they going?" Mollie asked aloud.

"They're leaving." Joseph, from his perch atop the barn, said. "Probably to get a drink." The owl scoffed.

"But we haven't been fed yet!" Snuffler whined.

"We need milking!" Annabelle complained.

"Don't worry, my love." Oxford said as he nuzzled her. "I'm sure they'll be back soon."

"They go drink themselves happy while we starve!" Napoleon growled. The men had gotten the car to start and began driving away. Jessie and Bluebell chased after them, barking loudly to get their attention.

"Blasted dogs!" Jones said. The car sped away out the five-barred gate, and the dogs came back.

"I need food." Mollie whimpered.

"You'll just have to wait, then." Benjamin said cynically.

Jones and his men didn't return until late that night, and when they did, it was safe to say that it was the only time the animals were happy to see Jones back. For the entire day they had gone hungry. Bolt had come by that afternoon, and now that the men were back, he hid behind the barn. He was afraid, but he would not leave until making sure that his friends had eaten.

"Will he feed us, now?" Mollie asked.

"Oh, I do hope so." Clover said, the ducklings she had protected the night of Old Major's speech huddled by her legs. When the men got out of the car, they began heading back to the farmhouse. One of the men then asked,

"Mr. Jones, what about the animals?" Jones looked back at the creatures gathered by the gate, and for a fleeting moment the animals thought that they would at long last be given food, but those hopes were dashed when Jones said,

"Ah, let 'em rot." And went back inside for another drink from the scullery.

"He's not going to feed us." Snowball said. Joseph took off and glided down to the farmhouse and perched on a windowsill. He looked through the glass and saw that the men were lounging in front of the television and popping open wine bottles, not caring at all for the animals. Joseph glared hatefully at Moses, who was just perching there with them.

At last the animals could take no more of it.

"If they won't feed us, we feed ourselves!" Clove announced. Hogarth agreed.

"Boxer, try and kick the gate open." Clover said quietly to the bigger horse. Boxer nodded and began pushing his weight against the gate, trying to break open the lock.

"C'mon." He kicked and pushed on the gate harder, and receaved help from Oxford.

"Boxer, not so loud!" Bluebell warned, hoping that Jones hadn't heard the clatter. Soon the gate broke open, and the animals came filing out behind Boxer.

"C'mon, follow me." He said. The animals all headed towards the food store, and with a few kicks from Boxer's mighty hoof, the wood door came off its hinges and crashed to the floor. The animals charged into the store-shed and began to help themselves to all the food inside. Jessie, Bluebell, and Pincher jumped onto the dog biscuits, and Clover helped the ducklings get to some piles of succulent grain.

"Here, Snuffler! Eat up!" Trop said as he lifted Snuffler in reach of a sack of fresh corn.

"Good work, Boxer!" Snowball said happily as he helped himself to some carrots beside Muriel. Bolt and Joseph stayed outside and kept watch, since Bolt had already eaten his fill of leaves and berries that day, and there was nothing inside the store-shed that was appetizing to Joseph.

Unfortunately for the animals, it was now that Mr. Jones heard the racket coming from the food store, and in another moment he and his men were marching towards the store-shed with whips in hand. Fortunately, Bolt saw them coming, and hurriedly bolted into the shed.

"Snowball! Snowball!" He called.

"Bolt! What is it?" Snowball responded.

"It's Jones and his men!" All the animals went quiet. The men then appeared at the shed door, and began lashing their whips in all directions. For a moment the animals were terrified. Snuffler hid beneath Trop. Oxford stood protectively in front of Annabelle and the other cows. Bolt was perhaps more terrified than he ever had been in his life. This was more than the hungry animals could bear. Without warning, a look of defiance spread across the faces of Snowball, Napoleon, and the other pigs.

"**ATTACK!**" Snowball squealed at the top of his lungs, and in an instant the animals flung themselves upon their tormentors. Jones and his men suddenly found themselves being rammed and kicked from all sides. Pincher leaped at Jones and pinned him down, and barked in his face at the top of his lungs.

"Haha! Follow me, lads!" Clove called triumphantly to the sheep as he and Hogarth after chased Jones's men. Bolt charged one of them and flung him hard onto the ground with a thrust of his antlers. The farm was in turmoil; the animals, after years of being oppressed and abused, were finally taking their revenge on their cruel owners.

"This is for Old Major!" Oxford roared, and delivered a fearsome kick to another of Jones's men.

"Don't give them time to regroup!" Snowball cried over the noise of the fight.

"Seize the day!" Napoleon called out.

Mrs. Jones was woken by the ruckus and looked out the bedroom window, saw what was happening, hurriedly flung a few clothes and possessions into a carpet bag, and ran out the farmhouse door towards the car, where Jones and his men were already fleeing. Joseph shreed like only a barn owl could and flew after the old witch, talons outstretched. Jessie leaped onto the hood of the car and barked ferociously at Jones as he tried to start the car, and Benjamin kicked at the side with his hooves. Boxer reared up and brought his huge hooves crashing onto the hood of the car. The humans then sped away, the animals pursuing them til they reached the five-barred gate. Moses flew after them, croaking in terror, mostly because Joseph was nearly in talon's reach of the raven, with a grin of almost sadistic glee on his beak. The animals slammed the five-barred gate behind them, and an uproar of triumphant victory rang out among them.

And so, almost before they knew what was happening, the Rebellion had been carried through: Jones was gone, and the Manor Farm was theirs.

For the first few minutes, the animals could hardly believe their good fortune. Then someone shouted,

"WE'VE DONE IT!" And a tremendous cheer of victory and joy erupted from the animals' throats. All of them cheered, even Benjamin. Then the animals' first act was to gallop in one single body round the farm boundaries, as if to make sure that no human being was hiding anywhere upon it. When that was done, Napoleon said,

"Comrades! Let us now rid ourselves of the remnants of Jones's reign!"

"Indeed!" Snowball said. "Let us destroy all that remains of our times of suffering!" The animals then all raced back to the farm buildings, and with a mighty show of force from Oxford, the harness room at the end of the stables was broken open. The animals did not hesitate to take everything inside; the bits, the nose rings, the dog-chains, the cruel knives which Jones had used to castrate the pigs and lambs, were all flung down the well.

The mother sheep, with her black lamb by her side, was happy that her son had been born only a few weeks before, so his future as a father was set in stone.

Everything else, the reins, the halters, the blinkers, and the degrading nosebags, as well as the demonic whips, were all piled in the yard where they were set on fire. All the animals gathered round the huge bonfire and cheered as they saw the whips go up in flames. Snowball and Trop then led the animals in singing _Beasts of England_ from end to end seven times around, and afterwards Napoleon and Squealer led them back to the store-shed and served out a double ration of corn, grain, and vegetables to everybody, with mouthfuls of biscuits for Jessie, Bluebell, and Pincher.

When they had all eaten to heart's content, Snowball gave a speech.

"Comrades, tonight has been a massive victory for us all. The Rebellion has been brought upon, and Jones has been ousted. Now we can all sleep well, and tomorrow will bring a new day!" The animals cheered, and after the excitement had died down, the animals settled down in the barn for the night with full bellies and slept as they had never slept before. Even Bolt came into the barn for the opportunity of it, and settled down between Boxer and Annabelle.

"It looks like Old Major's dream has come true before we thought." Trop said as he and Snuffler settled down beside Jessie. The straw had never felt softer.

"Yes." Jessie said. "Yes, it has." Jessie then settled down to sleep, and felt her puppies kick, almost in happiness for what their mother and her friends had achieved.

* * *

**And so ends chapter 2. Sorry this took so long. I'm a lazy author. Added with the fact that my computer ****can be a goddamn piece of SHIT at times.**

**Expect updates during the weekends.**


	3. Chapter 3: New Days

**Hello, after a much too long hiatus, everybody. I'm finally getting my ass in gear and updating this story. Sorry it took literally a _YEAR _for me to update this. I am ashamed. **

**Anyway, I've managed to focus on separate projects for an extended period of time now, so hopefully I'll be able to work on my other fanfics more and with improvements. This chapter is pretty long, but just bare with me.**

* * *

The warm, refreshing sun slowly began to peek over the horizon, and a brand new day was dawning on Manor farm. The animals all woke at the crack of dawn as usual, even though they were allowed to sleep in now. The animals all awoke in the barn, and suddenly remembering the glorious thing that had happened last night, and wanting to be assured it was not a dream, they all hurriedly got to their feet, burst out the barn doors and raced out into the pasture together.

A little ways down the pasture there was knoll, from which one could gaze out over the entire farm. The herd of animals rushed joyously to the top of it with Snowball in the lead, and they gazed out all around them in the clear morning light.

"Look, comrades!" Trop squealed. "The farm is ours now!" And it _was_ all theirs. Yes, theirs! Everything they could see was theirs now! No words could describe the pure joy they all felt at this thought, and the animals whooped and called out as they gamboled round and round the pasture in ecstasy. They hurled themselves into the air in great leaps of excitement; they rolled in the morning dew, they cropped sweet mouthfuls of lovely summer grass and kicked up clods of the fresh black earth to sniff its rich scent, and Boxer happily joined Mollie in a run down the hill and a roll in the grass, the horses laughing heartily all the while.

"Hahaha! C'mon, Annabelle!" Oxford laughed richly as he dove into the cow pond for a refreshing swim, startling a few ducks who'd had the same idea. Giggling in childish joy, Annabelle splashed in after the bull. Trop joined Snuffler and the other piglets in rolling down a grassy hillside, laughing as they tumbled into a fresh mud wallow. The ram brothers Clove and Hogarth were quick to follow, as well as the rest of the sheep, messing up their wool with grass stains(not that they cared). The dogs ran and howled, chasing one another jovially, even old Benjamin couldn't help but smile, if only for the joy of the moment. He knew it wouldn't last forever, though.

Perhaps the most excited of all was Bolt the deer, who sprang and bounded every which way, for he no longer had to fear the guns and bullets of Man.

When the excitement had taken its course, Snowball and Napoleon brought all the animals back into a group to the yard, and they took a tour of inspection of all the whole farm, looking with speechless admiration upon the ploughland, the ripened hayfield, the orchard, the spinney, and the farm buildings, as if they had never seen them before. Even now the animals could still hardly believe it all belonged to them and them alone.

Led by the pigs, the animals filed back to the farm buildings, where the entire lot of them froze in silence upon glancing at the farmhouse door. Though now the farmhouse, too, belonged to them, they were all deathly afraid to go near it, as it had harbored their hated abuser for so many years. Snowball shook his head and snorted, however.

"Comrades," He said, turning to the others. "I too am just as unnerved as you all are, but need I remind you that Jones no longer has any influence on us. If we are to enter his house, he will not scourge on us like a wrathful god; no, he will wallow in his own shame at the Red Lion where he drinks, as Moses has said he has gone."

"It be true!" The raven cackled, drawing attention to himself. "Jones and his men be drinking away in town! Saw it meself!"

"Yes!" Trop announced, trotting up beside Snowball. "My friends, comrade Snowball is right. The farmhouse, as all else here, is ours now. May we enter it as we please."

"They're right." Clover said. "It would only be right to look inside." At this all the animals agreed to look within the house of their former tormentor. Napoleon was first to approach the door, then requested Boxer's aid in opening it. With only two powerful strikes of his hoof, Boxer broke the door off its hinges and it crashed to the floor.

"Thank you, Boxer." Napoleon acknowledged. He and Squealer then led the way into the farmhouse, and the others all followed in single file, as it was the only way they could enter. Snowball, however, did not follow, staying outside.

"Joseph!" The owl wasn't planning on joining the others, but he responded to Snowball. "Stay out here. I need your help with something."

Inside the farmhouse, the animals all walked with the utmost care for fear of disturbing anything. Branching off from the main group, they tiptoed from room to room, afraid to speak above a whisper, and gazed with awe at the unbelievable luxury.

"The humans steeped themselves in such luxury, while we were forced to live in squalor!" Napoleon sneered hatefully. The animals looked upon the beds with their feather mattresses, the mirrors and looking-glasses, the Brussels carpet, and the horsehair sofa. Napoleon growled. "They see fit for animals to die, just so they can sit in comfort!" It was then found that Mollie was not with the other animals. Boxer, Clover, and Trop offered to search for her, and soon enough they found the white mare had remained behind in the master bedroom. She had taken a strip of blue ribbon from Mrs. Jones' dressing table, and held it against her shoulder, admiring herself before the mirror in a decidedly foolish manner.

"Mollie!" Trop reproached, startling Mollie. "You know you are not to be adorning yourself with ribbons or anything of the sort! Such things are the mark of slavery to humans!"

"I'm sorry, Trop." Mollie said, dropping the ribbon and hanging her head. "I just wanted to see how it would look, just for a moment."

"Mollie, you must remember;" Clover said softly. "You no longer need those ribbons, you no longer have to look pretty for humans' eyes."

"But I _like_ the ribbons." She complained. Clover and Trop shook their heads. She just didn't see.

"It's alright, Mollie." Boxer said kindly, stroking her muzzle with his own. "But we should get back to the others."

"Indeed." Trop added, leading the way out. "This act is forgiven, Mollie, but I fear Napoleon and Snowball might not take it lightly should it occur again."

"I understand, Trop." Mollie said sullenly. The horses and pig soon reunited with the other animals, who were making their way to the other side of the house. When they reached the kitchen, however, they all halted with gasps of shock; throughout the room hung the butchered bodies of their comrades, a fresh porker carcass lay on a countertop, and the plucked bodies of ducks, hens, and even rabbits hung from the ceiling.

"Don't look, Snuffler." Trop said, his voice breaking as he shielded the young one's eyes from the awful sight.

"Look." A drake said in a hushed voice, pointing to a fresh killed rooster. "Old Caller." Old Caller had been an insightful rooster, who was among Old Major's best friends. For years he'd asked philosophical questions about the animals' world, very much like the old boar. Many of the animals shed tears at this dreadful sight.

"We must bury them all." Boxer solemnly spoke, trying to comfort the teary Clover.

"That we must." Agreed Napoleon. And so the dogs took the bodies and dragged them outside, where they were buried by the orchard boundary.

The animals were leaving the house, when Boxer peaked into the basement door and noticed a barrel of beer. Knowing this was a mark of Jones' torment, the cart horse stove the barrel in with a hard kick of his foot, sending it clattering down the cellar steps and snorting in defiance. Otherwise, nothing was touched inside the house.

"Comrades," Napoleon announced to the animals in the farmhouse yard. "I propose that we keep the farmhouse, but not enter it after this day, and preserve it as a museum." A unanimous resolution was then passed among the animals that the farmhouse would be left untouched; all were agreed that no animal must ever live there.

Napoleon, Trop and Squealer then led the animals to the storehouse, where the pigs served out the breakfast rations. As the animals ate, Jessie noticed that Snowball was nowhere to be found.

"Has anyone seen Snowball? And Joseph, for that matter?" It was then that Bolt came trotting in, an elated grin marking his features.

"Everyone, come quick!" He called. "Snowball has a wondrous surprise to show us all!" Excited by this news, the animals all hurried out into the farmyard behind the deer, who led them to the five-barred gate at the edge of Manor farm that led out to the main road. A ladder was propped against the sign above the gate, and Snowball himself was climbing down, and Joseph perched atop the sign, a can of paint in his talons.

"Come one, come all!" Snowball joyously shouted. "Come and see!" The animals all gathered on the other side of the gate, and on the sign that once read _MANOR FARM_, now read in white paint the words _ANIMAL FARM_.

"What does it say?" Oxford asked, as none of the animals could read.

"It says, _Animal Farm_." Snowball replied proudly. "It is the name which the farm shall from now on be known, as the farm now belongs to us, the animals."

"Animal Farm." Clover repeated.

"_Animal Farm_." Echoed Jessie.

"It's lovely." Hogarth said, smiling up at the sign.

"Aye, that it is, brother." Nodded Clove. Even though the spelling was a little off(the L was backwards and the R was tilted a bit), the name was beautiful under all the animal's eyes.

"Snowball, if you can write, then you must be able read as well!" Said Bluebell.

"Indeed, Bluebell!" Said Snowball. "Ever since Old Major's speech, we pigs have been teaching ourselves to read and write in secret. And we intend for all the rest of you to learn as well." The other pigs all nodded in agreement.

"That's not all, comrades!" Napoleon announced, coming up beside Snowball. "We've also assembled our new way of life, to be known as Animalism, into a system of laws."

"Yes! Follow us to the barn!" Added Snowball, and the pigs led the other animals to the big barn, where Snowball sent for a ladder, which was propped against the barn wall. Joseph carried the bucket of white paint, and Snowball ascended, holding a paintbrush in the knuckles of his trotter. Squealer followed below, holding the paint bucket. Snowball then proceeded to write the seven principles of Animalism on the wall, so all could see.

When Snowball finished, he and Squealer climbed down the ladder, with some awkwardness, and turned to the others.

"Comrades," He announced. "These were Old Major's wise and meaningful words to us. They are the Seven Commandments of Animalism." Snowball then listed off each of the commandments in order.

"First: _Whatever goes upon two legs, is an enemy._

Second: _Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend."_(this commandment had been modified with the chickens, ducks, pigeons and Joseph in mind since, as Trop explained;)

"The wing, comrades, is an organ of propulsion, just as a leg. The mark of Man is the _hand_, an organ of manipulation. Do you understand?" The birds all agreed yes, it was fair.

"Third:" Snowball began again. "_No animal shall ever wear clothes._

Fourth: _No animal shall sleep in a bed._

Fifth: _No animal shall drink alcohol_

Sixth: _No animal shall ever harm nor kill any other animal."_

"And finally, comrades, the seventh: _All Animals Are Equal!" _A tremendous uproar rose from the crowd at Snowball's words, with the seeming exception of Napoleon. "Old Major may be gone, but as long as we hold true to the ways of Animalism, he will always be in our hearts." The animals all nodded in agreement and approval; they all, even the stupider ones, believed these laws were fair and just.

"Now, comrades!" Cried Trop. "To the hayfield! The harvest awaits, and let us make it a point of honor to complete it more quickly than Jones and his men could do." The animals all agreed, but as they made their way down the yard, the three cows, whom had seemed uneasy for some time past, cried out in painful mooing.

"Annabelle!" Oxford bellowed. "What's wrong, my dear?"

"Our udders are full to bursting!" Annabelle cried.

"We haven't been milked in over a day!" Lowed the others.

"Snowball, we must do something!" Said Trop. Snowball thought for a moment, flicking his left ear, a habit of his.

"Very well, then." He said after reaching a conclusion. "Pincher, Bluebell, and Jessie; fetch some buckets from the shed, please. Trop, you, Squealer and the other pigs help me milk the cows." The dogs went off to the shed, and soon returned with plenty of milking buckets. Snowball and Trop led some of the pigs in milking the cows, and, after a few tries, managed to successfully collect five buckets of frothing, creamy milk.

"Oh, thank you, Snowball!" Annabelle moaned in ecstasy. "That's a load off my udder." Several animals stared thirstily at the milk buckets, eager to have a lick.

"What's going to happen to all that milk?" Bolt asked. He in particular had always wanted to taste cow's milk.

"Jones used to mix some of it in with our mash." Suggested one of the hens.

"Mine too." Said Muriel the goat. "What'll we do with it?"

"Never mind the milk, comrades!" Said Napoleon, placing himself in front of the buckets. "That will be attended to; for now we must focus on the harvest. Comrade Snowball will lead the way, and I shall follow in a few minutes. Now, forward comrades! The hay is waiting!" And so, led by Snowball and the other pigs, the animals made their way down to the field. Trop, however, stayed behind for a moment, eyeing Napoleon and Squealer.

"Hmm." He pondered.

"Trop?" He heard Snuffler call. "C'mon! Snowball says it's harvest time!"

"I'm coming!" Trop responded, giving a last look at the two pigs before following. He could've sworn he small a grin cross Squealer's snout.

* * *

Down in the hayfield, the animals were first met with difficulty. The harvesting implements had been designed for humans and not for animals, and it was quite a drawback that no animal was able to use any tool that involved standing on his hind legs. But the pigs were clever enough to find a way round every difficulty. They did not do much of the actual work, but instead directed and supervised their comrades. It was only natural they assume leadership, with their superior knowledge and intellect.

Boxer and Clover knew every inch of the field, as they had worked it their whole lives, and in fact they understood the business of mowing and raking far better than Jones and his men ever had. Mollie, on the other hand, had almost never done any worthwhile labor in her life, and had to learn from the other horse's example. Boxer and Clover harnessed themselves to the cutter and horse-rake, respectively(not bits or reins were needed in these days, of course), and tramped steadily round the field, Boxer cutting the hay and Clover collecting it. A pig walked in pace behind them, calling "Gee up, comrade!" or "Whoa back, comrade." As the case was.

To make sure everyone helped with the harvest, Snowball sent for sickles to be fetched from the toolshed, and directed the ducks to hold then flat in their bills and slash left to right to cut the hay stalks.

"Left to right, comrades." Snowball said. "And be careful not to accidentally prick one another." The ducks went to their task one the other side of the field, observed by Snowball. They didn't do very well at first, and desperately needed organization. Eventually, and after some much-needed demonstration from a pig, the ducks soon got the hang of it.

The cut hay was gathered into small piles by the ducks, which were carried and placed into bigger piles by the sheep, Muriel, and Trop, and Jessie led a second division of sheep in taking mouthfuls of hay and placing them into the hay wagon in line, the wagon pulled by Benjamin with help from Bolt. The cleared areas of field were searched over double-time by the chickens who, with their sharp eyes, collected numerous single stalks that would otherwise have been missed. From the air, Joseph circled around and alerted Snowball and Trop if any animals needed help or guidance. The bigger animals piled the collected hay and arranged them into stacks on the pasture, where they were propped up with large branches from the treeline.

At the end of the long day, the animals had gotten a considerable amount of work done, most in thanks to Boxer, who pledged to word even harder than he had in Jones' time. As they headed back, Snowball and Trop commemorated everybody for their work on Animal Farm's first day, but as they were heading to the store for their evening rations, it was discovered that the milk the pigs had collected earlier had disappeared.

Someone asked where it had gone, and Squealer was quickly there to explain.

"Worry not, comrades." Squealer said in that sly voice of his. "The milk has been taken to the storehouse where it will be preserved for when we may drink it. For now, eat for your labor in the field; comrade Napoleon and the rest of us pigs have already determined a food rations arrangement for each of you." Content with this, the animals all headed to their eating troughs, where their rations were waiting for them. Trop, however, was very suspicious of what Squealer had told everyone. Nevertheless, he followed the other pigs to their sty, where he joined Snowball and Snuffler in their dinner, which was considerably higher in quantity than before. Indeed, the animals all found every mouthful was an acute pleasure, now that it was truly the animals' own food, and not doled out by a grudging master. In all there was much more for everyone to eat that night.

* * *

The next morning, Snowball and Trop led the animals back to the hayfield, while Napoleon and Squealer milked the cows and brought the milk to the storehouse with assitance of other pigs.

The animals sweated and toiled to get the harvest in, but in the end their efforts were rewarded, for the harvest was an even greater success than any of them had hoped. In the end they managed to collect the full harvest an entire two days less time than it had taken Jones and his men, but it certainly never could have been done without Boxer, who now seemed like three horses in one. Truly, there were many days when the farm work seemed to rest entirely on the cart horse's mighty shoulders, and his solution to every problem, every query was a well acted-on phrase: "I will work harder!" He had adapted this as a personal motto, and he made an arrangement with one of the roosters to wake him a full half-hour earlier than the other animals, so he could put in some volunteer work ahead of time.

The day after the hay harvest was completed was a Sunday, in which no work was done and the animals could move about in leisure.

Bolt was the first to awaken. He rolled onto his legs after a long night of sleep in the big barn, shaking his head and rattling his antlers. The red deer was always first up at dawn, long before the other animals. It was habit, as one couldn't afford to laze about in the wilderness, where every corner could hide a predator. Bolt liked the farm life very much, since now he had a steady share of food and guaranteed protection. As Bolt scratched an itch on his hind leg, using his antler as a handy tool, he flicked an ear to a noise from the horse stalls. Bolt looked up to see Boxer pushing his stall open and quietly trotting out the barn door. Bolt decided to join him.

"Boxer?" The deer called quietly. Boxer turned, slightly startled.

"Oh, good morning, Bolt." The huge horse said kindly. "I was just heading out to work in the field."

"Boxer, if I may ask, why do you insist on working so much more than the rest of us? It has been weeks since the Rebellion, and we are all free now; you have no reason to overwork yourself so. Besides, we do no work on Sundays!" But Boxer shook his head.

"I must work for the prosperity of Animal Farm. I'm the toughest worker, Bolt, and it's only fair that I do the hardest work as much as I can for the benefit of our comrades. Therefore, I should get at least some work done on Sundays, just in the early morning." Bolt knew Boxer, and that statement did not sound like him.

"Who told you that?" The deer asked.

"Comrade Squealer, of course." Boxer replied. "It makes sense to me, at least. I best get off to the field now." And then Boxer trotted down to the pasture, leaving Bolt by the barn, rather puzzled.

"We all wish he'd slow down, my antlered friend." A voice said from overhead. Bolt looked around, startled, to see Joseph the barn owl perched by the hayloft.

"Oh, Joseph. I didn't know you were there."

"That's a good thing, for us owls." Joseph replied. "I too am a little concerned, for Boxer's sake. If we cannot talk sense into him, perhaps Jessie can."

"Or Clover." Bolt suggested. Joseph nodded knowingly, but said nothing else. He then took off to his favorite perch in the barn rafters, where he slept during the day.

* * *

Breakfast was eaten one hour later on Sundays, and the animals were happy with their rations. No one grumbled or stole an extra mouthful, with the exception of Mollie, who ate with vigor. Trop was quick to remind her that they all received the same amount of food, and she quickly apologized.

When everyone had eaten their fill, Snowball called them all into the yard.

"Comrades," He said loud enough for all to hear. "Now that we have successfully brought in our first harvest on Animal Farm, it is time we hoist the sign of our new way of life. Boxer, Oxford, if you will..." Boxer and Oxford nodded, and gripped a rope in their mouths and pulled, hoisting a great, green flag up the flagpole, where it billowed in the wind.

"Comrades, I present the official Flag of Animalism!" Marking the flag was a horse's hoof and a cow's horn painted in white, which the animals awed at. "It is green, to represent the green fields of England. And the hoof and horn are there to signify the future free Republic of the Animals, which will arise when the human race is at long last overthrown!" The animals called out their praise, but then Jessie and Bluebell erupted in a sharp whining, calling the others' attention.

"Jessie! Bluebell! Are you alright?' Boxer said, stepping over to the dogs.

"Don't worry, Boxer." Jessie said, clearly discomforted. "It's time!"

"Time?" Annabelle wondered. "Time for what?"

"We're having puppies!" Bluebell yelped, part joyful and part pained.

"Puppies?!" Bolt honked.

"Puppies?" Echoed Muriel.

"Puppies?!" Boxer whinnied. "Quick Trop! What do we do?"

"Be steady Boxer." The pig reassured. "Bluebell and Jessie will be fine. Let's just get them back to the barn."

"This is excellent!" Snowball exclaimed, trotting up to the others. "More good news! The first of the next generation of Animal Farm! Clover, Annabelle, you two help the dogs to the barn, and up to the hayloft so they may have some privacy. Jessie and Bluebell, you are excused from the Meeting."

"What meeting?" Bluebell asked.

"Nothing to worry about. Everyone else, come meet in the big barn." The animals all gathered in the barn, and Jessie and Bluebell walked between Clover and Annabelle, who helped push the dogs up the ladder to the hayloft where they could whelp in peace. Joseph was awoken to watch over them, which he did without question.

Below, the animals gathered and settled into the straw. Before them, the pigs stood in front of the raised platform where Old Major had once lain. Snowball was in the front, and he addressed the others.

"Comrades, we've called you all here for the first Meeting of Animal Farm, to be put into effect every Sunday after the raising of the flag. It is in these meetings that we will plan out the work of the coming week and put forth resolutions and debate upon them accordingly. All animals are welcome to put forth their own resolutions, if they so choose."

"Now," Said Napoleon, taking Snowball's place to speak. "Let us discuss the schedule of farm work for the following week." The pigs then went on to announce that the corn would be planted on Monday, and the haystacks in the field would be placed into the loft. After those things were done, the primary focus of Animal Farm would be the education of the other animals under the pigs.

"Now," Snowball announced once everything had been agreed upon. "Are there any other resolutions?" The other animals were silent, as, though they knew how to vote, none could think of any worthwhile resolution.

"I have one!" Called a voice, revealed to be Bolt when he stood up. "What's been happening to all the milk?" It was then that the other animals were reminded of the milk's vanishing, after it came from the cows. None of them had had the chance to drink any.

"That's right!" Clove announced. "Where's all the milk? We've seen you pigs milkin' the cows every mornin', but when we get back it's always gone!"

"None of us have had a lick of it!" A drake quacked irritably. "So where's it all?" The animals all began quarreling and tensions were rising, and Trop and Snowball seemed terribly guilt-ridden.

"That's enough!" Napoleon squealed, silencing all the animals. He was about to say something more, when Snowball and Trop stepped up, hanging their heads.

"Very well, comrades." Snowball admitted guiltily. "The truth is that we pigs have been keeping all the milk since the first day." This surprised the animals.

"It's true." Added Trop. "We intended to share it, but-"

"_BUT..._we unfortunately cannot afford to." Squealer jumped in. "You do not think, comrades, that we keep the milk for ourselves out of selfishness or privilege? You see, milk is highly nutritious, and(this has been proven by science, comrades,) it among other things are vitally important to a pig's all around health. We are the brainworkers of the farm, after all. Not to be rude, but no other animals here could carry out what we plan. If we were not with our brainpower, what then? Why, the farm would collapse, and then Jones would return! _Surely, comrades, you do not want Jones back, do you?"_

The animals found they could only agree to this. Definitely, none of them wanted Jones back. It was voted, then, that the pigs would keep all the milk for themselves, and it would be mixed into their mash each morning. The meeting then disbanded, and the animals went to their afternoons, which were given up to recreation. Jessie and Bluebell were not to be bothered, as the birthing process could take many hours.

"I feel terrible." Snowball said as he and Trop left the barn with the other pigs. "Why must we keep them from privilege?"

"I'm not sure I like where Napoleon and Squealer are going, Snowball my friend." Said Trop. "The others trust you greatly, and I think you should make a point to include your verdicts more strongly."

"That may be a better idea." Snowball thought. "Let's head back to the harness room, then." The harness room was the pigs' official base of operations now.

"If you don't mind, Snowball," Trop said. "I was going to bring Snuffler to check on Jessie and Bluebell. He wanted to keep them company."

"Very well." Snowball nodded.

As Trop and Snowball went their separate ways, Napoleon and Squealer watched from the platform.

"Hmm." The Berkshire said to himself. "This could prove an obstacle…" He then turned his ears to the hayloft, where Jessie and Bluebell were still in the throes of childbirth.

"Mhmm…."

* * *

**Squealer, you sonofabitch! WHAT'RE YOU HIDING?! _TALK!_**

**Sorry if this chapter felt too long. I intend to also post original chapters not from the book in the future. Also, just to clarify for anyone who thinks otherwise: this is _NOT_**** another AF allegory tale! In my own words, this is what Animal Farm might have been if it was just a book, not an allegory for Stalinism, or possibly if it was written in modern times instead of back in '45. No parallels to historic events or persons are intended. **


	4. Chapter 4: Joseph is Suspicious

**Jesus. It has been too goddamn long since I updated this story. I really am very sorry for all that. But, as it's a brand new year, I've pledged to finish the things I've started instead of randomly drifting off to new ideas, at least for a while. That includes fanfictions. Now, let's return where we left off. **

* * *

On Monday, the animals of Animal Farm resolved to plant the corn. After waking the first thing on mind was breakfast. The pigs readily served out equal rations for everyone, all except for Bolt, who preferred the fruitful produce of the forest, Joseph, who had eaten his fill the night before, the cat, who didn't turn up at all, as well as Jessie and Bluebell, who were still in the hayloft. Trop had volunteered to bring them water when they needed it until they had birthed. The animals ate with fervor, especially the pigs in their sty, but Trop and Snowball ate their mash slower than the others, clearly rather upset that they could not share the refreshing milk with their comrades. Beside them, Snuffler ate up his share heartily. Across the trough, Napoleon was subtle in glaring at the other two pigs, Snowball in particular.

All of a sudden, a pigeon came flying out of the hayloft calling excitedly.

"Everyone! Come quick!" She sang. "The puppies have been born! Come and see! Come and see!" At this wonderful news, the animals gladly left their breakfast and entered the barn. Bolt came bounding back from the forest, just as eager as the others. Unfortunately most of the animals couldn't ascend the ladder up to the hayloft on account of being too big, and only Snowball, Trop, Squealer, Napoleon, Muriel, Joseph, Pincher, Snuffler, the chickens and the ducks went up to see.

Jessie and Bluebell were laying against a fresh pile of hay, looking quite relieved and tired. Nestled beside them, tussling and crawling to get at their mother's teats, were ten tiny, nearly hairless newborn puppies.

Pincher was the first to approach. He was the puppies' father, and it was natural he look them over first. Six puppies had been born to Jessie, and another four to Bluebell. From what little hair they had, it could be told that most were black and brown like their rottweiler father, but two in Jessie's litter were more white and tan, and one in Bluebell's very light brown. Pincher carefully sniffed the squirming young, smiling proudly down at them. Next to approach was the curious little Snuffler, who tiptoed up to Jessie's litter and sniffed them fervently. The others finally came closer for a look, and marveled at how cute the little ones were.

"They're so small." Muriel observed.

"They're even smaller than I am!" Snuffler squeaked.

"They're supposed to be that small." Jessie laughed. "Puppies come not quite finished, compared to other animals."

"That doesn't make them any less important." Snowball said, looking proudly down at the newborns. "They are still the very first born into a new age for animal kind, and I'm sure they will grow up to be very useful."

"That I'm also sure of." Said Napoleon, eyeing the pups as they nursed. He seemed to take considerable interest in them. Joseph gave the boar a glare from the rafters when he heard this. What was on his mind?

"Now now, comrades." Squealer spoke. "We mustn't distract ourselves; we all still have work to do this day. The field must be plowed, and the corn planted."

"Squealer is correct." Said Napoleon. "The rest of you head down to the field; a few pigs will stay behind to milk the cows, while myself, Squealer and Snowball will lead you down to the field. Let's get move on, shall we?" The animals carefully climbed down the ladder into the barn, a few almost falling over, and then the pigs led them out the barn doors. Trop stayed behind to help with the milking, and he gave Snuffler a taste of fresh milk.

* * *

Down in the field, the animals all stood to receive instructions from the pigs.

"First, the field will be ploughed by Boxer, Clover, Benjamin, and Oxford." Snowball announced, drawing out his plan in the dirt. "Afterwards, Bolt, Muriel and the sheep will tread between the rows carrying seed bags, with a pair of chickens tossing mouthfuls of seed into the trenches. The ducks will follow and bury the seeds, patting down the soil tight with their ample feet. Any questions?" The other animals thought the plan sounded doable; it was devised by the pigs, so it must've been. "Good. Now Boxer, Clover, Oxford, and Benjamin, please get yourselves harnessed and get to plowing, which I will supervise personally. Everyone else, follow the plan accordingly. If anyone is unsure of what to do, feel free to ask a pig."

Right to work, Benjamin and the horses quickly got themselves harnessed with the plows, but Oxford needed some assistance, as he wasn't used to the notion of pulling a plow quite yet. The four beasts started down the fallow land, each leaving a perfectly straight row of tilled soil in their wake. When enough rows had been plowed, the pigs brought out bags of seeds from last year's corn harvest, and helped drape them over the backs of Bolt, Muriel and several sheep. The smaller animals then trotted down the tilled soil in single file, a pair of hens perching atop each back, taking beakfuls of seed and throwing them into the waiting trenches. Flocks of ducks waddled after them, pushing the soil over the seeds with their bills and patting it down with their wide feet.

This method of planting proved fairly efficient, but of course the animals ran into problems. Without Jessie, Clove and Hogarth had to lead the sheep, which, being sheep themselves, wasn't the most effective approach. Pincher helped out best he could, but he was no sheepdog.

As the corn planting dragged on over the next couple days, the pigs tried to separate all labor into equal shares; this approach was interrupted, however, by Mollie most of all. The white mare often was excused from work much earlier than the others, on the grounds that a pebble had gotten into her hoof, or that she suddenly felt sickly. Moses the raven also lingered, doing nothing to aid the work effort and drawling on about that animal paradise of his, which the pigs constantly had to remind was completely absurd. The cat also did no work, seeming to disappear all afternoon and reappear only when the work was done. Old Benjamin worked no harder than he had before the rebellion, nor any less. He kept to his slow, obstinate way, and if anyone asked whether he was happy regarding Jones being gone, he would always reply with the same phrase: "Donkeys live a long time. None of you has ever seen a dead donkey." And everyone had to be satisfied with this cryptic response. Despite these holdbacks, the planting was completed by mid summer. Jessie and Bluebell were able to do some work now, but they still had to return to their puppies constantly.

Snowball was occupied with directing the animals to gather the hay inside the barn loft alongside Trop. Hay was piled onto the lift until it would carry no more, then Boxer, Benjamin, and Oxford pulled on a rope, pulling the lift to the top level of the barn, where Muriel and Bolt and the hens took mouthfuls(or antler-fulls) of hay and spread it across the floor until the lift was empty. Then the process would start over.

While Trop and Snowball were occupied on this, Snuffler was by himself. The little piglet was supposed to be being watched by Joseph, but he'd wandered out of the sty when the owl hadn't been looking, occupied with the other piglets. Snuffler trotted and skipped about the buildings, wanting to explore or maybe find Trop. All of a sudden, he overheard Napoleon and Squealer talking with someone else.

Dashing behind a stray barrel, Snuffler peeked out to see Napoleon with Squealer at his side, Pincher standing before them.

"Are the puppies weaned yet?" Napoleon asked softly, so as not to be overheard.

"No, not yet. But why?" The dog wondered.

"It need not concern you, comrade Pincher." Squealer said, whisking his tail.

"They're my puppies, so I think it should." Pincher replied with a stern bark.

"It is for the good of Animal Farm." Napoleon snorted. "That is all you need know." The two pigs then left, leaving Pincher very confused. Snuffler scurried back behind the harness room. What did Napoleon want with Bluebell and Jessie's puppies? And why were they talking with Pincher in secret?

"I should to tell someone!" The piglet oinked. He was about to go get Trop, when a flurry of white feathers blocked his path. Snuffler looked up to see an unhappy Joseph.

"Snuffler," The owl hooted, clearly dismayed. "I thought I told you to stay where I could see you. You deliberately disobeyed both me and Trop, who told you not to wander from my sight."

"I'm very sorry, Joseph!" Snuffler squeaked. "I just wanted to explore a little! Things have been so boring since everyone has to work now."

"That may be, young one, but we all must toil for the prosperity of Animal Farm, and eventually the worldwide rebellion. I myself could easily fly off and be done with this whole thing, but I remain, helping my friends. Now, let's get you back to the pigsty."

"Wait!" Snuffler said before the barn owl could take off. "I overheard Napoleon and Squealer just a minute ago; they were talking to Pincher!"

"It's impolite to listen in on other's conversations, Snuffler." Saying that did make Joseph a hypocrite, since he was guilty of listening in privately on more than one occasion. With his vast hearing, he couldn't really help it.

"But Napoleon wanted something with the puppies!" At this, Joseph was interested.

"What did he say?" The barn owl asked.

"He asked Pincher if they were weaned yet. I don't why." Joseph turned his head backward, watching Squealer and Napoleon rejoin the other pigs in the barn. The bird narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Snuffler." He said after a pause. "I want you to go back to the pigsty. I'll return shortly." Joseph then spread his wings and flapped up to the barn, swooping in through the partially open doors. Snuffler obediently waddled back to the pigsty, where he joined the other piglets.

Inside the barn, Joseph landed silently on one of the rafters by a post. He looked out over the straw-covered floor, spotting Bluebell and Jessie in a corner, their rambunctious litters scurrying and playing about them. The pups had opened their eyes shortly ago, and were now old enough to play about the barn supervised. Joseph had always made sure nothing happened to them when their mothers were working.

It was then that the barn door creaked open, and two figures came trotting in. Napoleon and Squealer. Joseph had an untrusting feeling deep in his gizzard. _Those two are up to something._ He thought.

"Afternoon, Jessie and Bluebell." Squealer said slyly.

"Hello, Napoleon." Jessie replied. "Squealer."

"Jessie and Bluebell." Napoleon began. "How're your pups doing, if I may ask?"

"They're doing just fine." Bluebell said, nuzzling her brown puppy. "Why do you ask?"

"Comrade Napoleon is simply concerned for their wellbeing." Squealer explained. "We have plans for them as well."

"Plans? What kind of plans?" Jessie asked, feeling somewhat unnerved.

"It need not concern you." Was the porker's reply. "It is merely for the wellbeing of Animal Farm."

"It does concern us." Bluebell barked lowly, standing up. "They're _our _children. What did you have in mind?"

"Very well, then, settle down." Squealer oinked. "If you must know, Napoleon and myself are planning on giving the puppies a special education, requiring them to be under our care for quite some time. It is strictly in their best interests, you understand."

"But why?" Jessie asked.

"You need not worry about them." Said Napoleon. "The reason will become clear in time. Now, can they eat solid food yet?" Above, Joseph sneered. Something was up, and he was immediately against it.

"Well, not quite." Bluebell answered. "And they're still nursing."

"We have milk for them." The black boar said quickly. "We'll take them now."

"Now?!" Jessie barked, standing to her paws. Napoleon reached down and picked up the blotchy white puppy by the scruff in his teeth. He and Squealer then began nudging the unruly puppies into a group, which they began herding towards a side door that led outside the back of the barn.

"Girls, please understand." Squealer snorted, lingering as Napoleon left with the dogs' young. "Our interests are purely for the puppies' own good, something I should assume that you, as their mothers, would understand."

"But…" Bluebell whimpered, watching her babies be taken. "But we've only had them for a few weeks! They can't even speak yet!"

"I _assure _you both, that you'll see your puppies again in the future. But what they require now is education from comrade Napoleon, and I. Now, as you have been released from this particular burden, I suggest you both get back to work." And with that, Squealer followed Napoleon out, and they were gone with Jessie and Bluebell's puppies.

"Why would they take our puppies?" Bluebell wondered, clearly very upset.

"I don't know." Jessie said, hanging her head and drooping her ears. "I don't know." Solemnly, the two dogs walked out of the barn to join the other animals in the work outside.

When he was alone, Joseph shreed in anger, as only a barn owl could. On what grounds did Napoleon have for taking the puppies? An animal as smart as the pigs should know being raised in complete solitude could only result badly.

Joseph then spread his wings and glided down through the door the pigs had gone out. He landed atop the cowshed roof and twisted his head round the farm, surveying the area. He soon spotted Napoleon, leading the puppies toward the harness room with Squealer, away from the others. What could they be up to?

Napoleon took one pup by the scruff and carried it up a ladder to a small, windowless loft above the harness-room. He came back down again soon after, taking another puppy in his mouth and ascending once more. Squealer then left and returned to the hay-counting effort, leaving Napoleon with the puppies. Joseph watched Squealer for but a moment, and when he turned back to Napoleon, he saw that one of the puppies was gone. The mostly white and black collie pup, vanished in the blink of an eye.

As Napoleon came down the ladder, he eyed the puppies for a moment, but saw nothing wrong. He then took pup after pup in his mouth and carried them up to the loft, until they were all hidden inside. Joseph was a smart bird, and he knew that something was very wrong here. He just couldn't figure out what. However, Joseph resolved to watch and wait, and see how this worked out, just like he always did.

* * *

When Joseph returned to the pig sty, he was relieved to see that Snuffler was still there, trotting through the mud with the other young piglets. Turning his head, he could see that everyone was just finishing up with loading the hay into the loft, now joined by Bluebell and Jessie. He decided to try and speak with them later with Trop; whether or not Napoleon had benevolent plans for raising the puppies, the rest of their comrades deserved to know. He would wait and see if Squealer came out an announced it; the porker seemed to act as the voice of the pigs now. If for whatever reason he didn't, Joseph would certainly take up this matter with Trop and the pigs.

It was later that night, after the day's work had been finished and everybody was entering the barn, that it was noticed that the pups had disappeared. Ironically, it was Boxer who noticed this first. Joseph was perched beside Trop when Squealer trotted in and answered the question on everyone's mind, telling them the same thing he and Napoleon had told the dogs. While some weren't sure they liked this answer, the smooth-talking porker was quick to mention that it was indeed quite honorable that each and every one of them felt such concern for the puppies' well-being, noble in fact. They animals, now with a prouder disposition, nodded and agreed that Squealer was quite right.

Joseph looked to Trop, who met the barn owl's eyes. They would certainly be talking about this in secret that night. The only other concern on the issue came from Snowball and several other pigs, who wished to know why they weren't informed of this.

Work resumed the next morning, with the pigs(led by Snowball) restating who was to do what and how over the course of the day. The meeting ended with no questions, and the pigs led the animals in the singing of _Beasts of England. _Everyone went to his or her assigned task, and their concern for the fate of the puppies from yesterday had all but disappeared, except amongst the dogs. No-one ever saw the pups afterward, and eventually most of the farm had forgotten about them completely.

* * *

**Short chapter. Don't fret, I swear to start on the next chapter by tomorrow. I promise to finish this thing before the years over. Maybe. **


End file.
